. Second, his
imprisonment for life in a penitentiary warranted to be strong enough
to hold him.

Neither of these courses being practicable until that young man had
entitled himself to the benefit of one or the other of them in the
legitimate way, Marcus Wilkeson had nothing to offer, and so he told the
old gentleman.

Mr. Van Quintem was disappointed. He looked up wistfully, and said:

"Can't you suggest something?"

Thus appealed to, Marcus angled in the deep waters of his mind, and
fished up this inadequate idea:

"Let him travel a couple of years in Europe."

"I have proposed it," returned the old gentleman, "but he won't, unless
I give him five thousand dollars, and an unlimited letter of credit.
This I refused. Besides, to tell the truth, I do not wish to exile the
boy, but to reform him at home."

Marcus was too polite to say bluntly that that was impossible; so he
cast in his line again at random, and drew out this worthless
suggestion:

"Stop all his pocket money, and tell him plainly that you will
disinherit him unless he reforms."

"My dear sir," replied the old gentleman, "that might do with some sons,
but not with mine. He would obtain money by theft, or even a worse
crime, and bring disgrace upon my gray hairs. He might go even
farther--for he has threatened it, as I told you--and murder me in
revenge. Besides, he is on short allowance now. I give him only thirty
dollars a week--less than a quarter of what he used to receive from me.
Much as his conduct deserves punishment, I could not reduce him to
beggary, you know."

This useless discussion was cut short by the precipitate entrance of the
subject of it. Mr. Van Quintem was greatly surprised at the sudden
apparition, and his face exhibited signs first of astonishment, then of
indignation, then of pleasure, in quick succession. But before his
erring son Had advanced halfway toward the father's chair, the father
turned his head slightly away, as if not daring to trust himself to an
interview.

The son took one sharp survey of Marcus, and then slipped his right hand
insinuatingly in that of his father, which hung over an arm of the easy
chair. Mr. Van Quintem turned his face farther away, but Marcus observed
that his fingers closed upon the hand which lay within them.

"Are you quite well, my dear father?" asked the son, in a low, hollow
voice, not meant to be overheard by the visitor.

"I am, thanks to God, and the doctor, and my niece,"